Some Things Have Changed
by happy29
Summary: <html><head></head>It's the morning after Fraser arrives to Ray K's place after falling off the radar for the better part of a year.</html>


Fraser rolled to his side and pulled the fleece blanket up under his chin. It smelled vaguely familiar, a scent from a lifetime ago. The light shining on his face felt different and he cracked open a single eye to take in his surroundings. Of course, now he remembered. He was at Ray's new home. He had a lot of trouble with recent events staying at the forefront of his memory. It was something he needed to discuss with his doctor when he returned home. He took a deep breath and closed his eye and turned to face the back of the couch. Even with the intruding sunshine, it felt too early to get up.

The night before, Ray was about to offer him his bed but then thought against the idea. He apologized saying that Travis still woke up in the middle of the night scared. He would crawl into bed with him at any random hour. Ray didn't want to freak out either the kid or Fraser and he didn't have an extra bed. Travis was already asleep in his blue race car bed, not that Fraser wanted to sleep in a child's bed anyway. The couch turned out to be more comfortable than he remembered or just that his body was too tired to care.

He turned over again and faced the bright living room, eyes squinting against the bright autumn sunshine filtering through the sheer drapes. Perhaps it was later than he thought. He pulled his hand out from under the blanket and checked the time on his father's worn watch. Almost a quarter till nine. He really was tired from the weary day of traveling. Fraser pushed the blanket to his hips and swung his legs over the edge of the couch. His feet hit the floor with a thud and he dropped his head forward, wondering why Ray didn't wake him sooner. Although, if he was honest with himself and that was what this whole trip was about in the first place, he was thankful he got some sound rest.

Fraser rubbed his hands over his face and stretched his arms up over his head. His back cracked, his left shoulder popped and he had a knot in his right calf. Last night when he arrived and saw Ray again, he felt rejuvenated… young even, like no time had passed from the first moment he was wrapped in a Ray Kowalski embrace. Today, as he unfolded himself from the couch and blanket, stretching to work out the built up kinks and tension from not only a night spent sprawled out on a sofa, but from a life of burden and regrets, he felt old… _weathered. _

Ray's chicken scratch handwriting on a folded note card caught his attention. Fraser leaned forward and picked the note up off the wooden coffee table. He smoothed his thumb over his name, over Ray's barely legible handwriting. _'Ben'_ scribbled in blue ink. He searched his memory for the moment of time when Ray had stopped calling him 'Fraser' and switched to 'Ben' instead. There wasn't one. Blank. The memory was hiding along with Ray's letter somewhere in the folds of his brain.

Fraser sank back against the leather couch and flipped the note open. He didn't know why, but Ray's handwriting always made him smile. Not because it was sloppy, he could still read it with one eye closed if he had too, but because it represented the man himself. Animated characters on a blank canvas coming together to tell a story.

'_Ben, _

_Morning, Benton- Buddy. Hope you slept well. I know the couch was less than ideal and you probably turned down a very comfortable and overly spacious bed at a nice hotel to sleep on my couch. Sorry… I have some errands to run this morning. Travis missed the bus for one thing, so I need to run him to school. I believe he thinks that if he misses the bus, he doesn't have to go. My mom taught me it doesn't work that way. Anyway, I also need to stop off at the station and tell my boss that I'll be taking a few days off. It really is good to have you here. Sorry about last night. I was just shocked to see you after all this time and then even more so as to what happened. You really do look good._

_There're fresh muffins on the counter… yes, I can actually cook. If I were there, I'd knock that smirk right off your face. I can still box, you know. Speaking of face… I'm really sorry about the marker on yours. Apparently, Travis got to you before I could stop him. Why that kid thinks someone's face is a good place to draw is still beyond me. And you still sleep like a rock, after all these years. There are some wet wipes in the bathroom on the back of the toilet that should take the marker right off. And just so you know, I DID NOT take the picture of you on my phone. So when Travis shows it to you this afternoon, just know it wasn't my idea. He really is a good kid, hiding somewhere under all that mischief._

_You want to meet me for lunch? At the diner we used to go to all the time when we were working a case. Maybe stir a few memories together, yours and mine. 555-8775 is my number since you don't have it. Let's plan on 11 so we can beat the lunch rush and actually hear each other talk. Remember how loud that place got?_

_Help yourself to anything in the fridge although I'd stay away from the brown sloppy looking stuff in the clear bowl on the right side. Travis made soup yesterday afternoon that he insists we are having for dinner tonight. I'm suggesting we go out instead. The teapot is ready to go on the stove and you saw where I grabbed the mugs._

_Ray'_

Fraser reread the note again. _Marker on his face_? He stood up and quickly made his way to the bathroom. How could he have slept through a child drawing on his face? Staring back at him was a race track full of what he assumed were cars, although from his vantage point, they looked more like colorful ants. He grumbled under his breath as he snagged a wipe out of the container and started scrubbing his face. Suddenly, he stopped rubbing at the marks and looked hard at his reflection in the mirror. He didn't recognize the person staring back at him. He was sure when he arrived last night, he had thick, dark hair, perhaps was a little steadier on his feet… this stranger staring back at him looked like he had seen better days. Was he still the same person that Ray remembered?

He finished cleaning the marker off his face and decided a shower to wash away his growing apprehensions was a good idea. He came here for a reason and he wasn't going to let the old man staring back at him in the mirror change his mind.

Pulling the long sleeve t-shirt down over his head, he shrugged it into place. Fraser felt renewed. The shower had felt good. He checked the mirror again to make sure he had removed all the marker from Travis' early morning art session. Even with the white hair, the person staring back at him no longer felt like a stranger. Checking his watch, he realized it was almost time to leave to meet Ray. Where had the morning gone?

It was fall in Chicago and the weather was cool, but the sun refused to hide away. The trees on Ray's property were full of color and beginning to fall. Fraser missed the fall weather of Chicago. The scents of the season were unique to the place he called his home for numerous years. He pulled the door closed behind him and fished the keys to his rental car out of his jacket pocket. A horn beeped behind him and he turned to see a smoky grey SUV pulling in the drive way. The SUV stopped and the driver door opened. Fraser smiled when his friend hopped halfway out.

"You want a ride?" Ray grinned wide.

Fraser shoved the keys back into his pocket and pulled open the passenger door, climbing in. He matched Ray's smile with one of his own. Fraser scanned the SUV thoughtfully, his smile fading on his face. "Maybe you were right Ray, everything has changed."

Ray boxed him lightly in the upper shoulder. "Some things have changed, Ben." He buckled his seat belt, threw his sunglasses over his blue eyes and pointed towards his closed garage door. "But not everything. I still have the Goat. Let's go have lunch."

Fraser nodded and let the smile re-bloom on his face. Ray was right. Some things had changed… but not everything.


End file.
